


Triggers

by addictioncrx



Series: En Garde [2]
Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood, Gen, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictioncrx/pseuds/addictioncrx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always a reason for everything; family complications, the death of a loved one, being separated from the only people who care... there's only so much a child can handle. Travel back to the past and watch as Toru, Ryota, Taka, and Tomoya grow from their childhood experiences, ultimately shaping them into the individuals you see in the main story. Prequel to Lockheart, but recommended to read after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Toru

**Author's Note:**

> Update: I am alive and back! Don't worry, I did not forget about Strifeless — I just wanted to focus on this right now since I have been planning to write these for a really long time. So this chapter will be about Toru. Does anyone want to guess which parent he takes after?  
> Please take note that Toru's birthday is in December, so the age might be a little confusing. For example, he may be turning six, however if the scenario takes place before his birthday, he will still be considered a five-year-old. Sorry for any confusion!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Facebook and Avril Lavigne.

_"Please, please be a good boy and be quiet, okay? Shh..._

_"Oh god, no... Please be quiet. You're a good boy, aren't you? Shh... Mummy's here..._

_"Please, god, please don't cry...! Not right now!"_

_"Is that kid seriously crying right now?"_

_"No, he was just hu—"_

_"Seriously? I have to come home to this screaming? Are you even taking care of him? I didn't work all day for you to slack off! You're my wife for a reason!"_

_"I'm sorry—"_

_"Nothing good ever happened since we got him. You wanted a child so bad, learn to take care of him! Make him stop crying!"_

_"I'm trying!"_

_"Get 'im to shut up!"_

_"I can't do that—"_

_"Get. Him. To. Shut up!"_

** April 9th, 6 years old **

"Mum?"

The young lady looked down at her son, brushing her bright hair aside so she could greet him with a wide smile. "What is it?"

"How come Dad isn't around any more?"

Those words immediately wiped the smile off her face, her demeanour faltering for a moment as she forgot she was still in the presence of her child. But her child seemed oblivious. "All the other kids have their mum and dad with them, but I think I haven't seen my Dad in 5000 years," the boy exaggerated. "Where did he go?"

The lady could only manage a small smile, her warm eyes still fixed on the boy as they walked down the gravel path towards a school. "He left us," she said simply, hoping the boy wouldn't dwell on it too much. "He won't be living with us any more."

"Oh," the boy replied without much of a reaction. "Will we see him again?"

"I don't know." His mum shrugged. "Do you want to see him?"

Her son, however, shook his head. "I don't like him. I can't play when Dad is around because then he gets angry and yell at me."

The lady laughed inwardly. Faint flashbacks played in her mind of the older man raising her voice at their only child, always yelling at him for the smallest things, like talking, making a mess, or even when he was being taught to use the chopsticks. Often his yelling would bring forth a negative reaction from the boy - usually crying - and that only infuriated the man further. More yelling would ensue until the boy finally calmed down, and the night would go on. This was their daily routine. The boy never could say much.

And that indeed left a mark on the child. It was not visible like a scar, but it was obvious when the lady would observe other children his age and compared them with him. Her son was not much of a talker, and often kept to himself, a result from having to be as silent as a mouse in his dad's presence. Even the family doctor found it peculiar for a young, curious boy his age to be so quiet and lonesome all the time, but he assured her that development in every child was different, and that her son would eventually open up as he gets older.

But that did not stop her motherly instincts from kicking in and nagging at her from the back of her mind. Now that his dad wasn't around, she had to struggle to work two jobs, often taking a break in between to pick him up from his kindergarten. Thankfully he was mature enough to be able to look after himself and their apartment, but it worried her that he had no one to talk to, and she feared it might hinder his social and emotional development. Would he be able to talk to the other kids? Would he be able to make friends? Would he participate in class activities? He was no longer in kindergarten starting from now, so the system would be different... They would demand so much more from him. Would he be able to handle that?

"Will you leave me too?"

The lady was taken aback by those words; she never thought her son would have to ask her something so mature and serious at this age. She blinked, looking down at him again, then, she giggled and shook her head. Perhaps it was just out of mere curiosity. "Of course," she said. "I'm your Mum. I'm precious to you, and you're precious to me. We won't leave each other, okay?"

The boy gave no response and simply looked straight ahead, and the lady sighed, hoping he was content with her answer.

They soon reached the front gates of the neighbourhood elementary school. It was not too fancy; a double-storey building roughly the size of a soccer field, with a courtyard by its side. A barbed wire fence no taller than two metres surrounded the premises. The appearance wasn't much of a concern, however, as it was evident by how it was already crowded with students - both old and new - and their parents and guardians waving them goodbye from the gates.

The lady took a deep sigh. She would love more than anything right now to walk in and accompany her son on his first day of school, but she couldn't... She couldn't even spare the time to pick him up when he was done. She needed to support their tiny family of two, so she couldn't afford to take a day off.

She looked down at her son again, his blond hair swaying and brushing his eyelids ever so lightly. The lady felt a warmth that soothed her heart, and she smiled; her son may be young, but there was no denying that he was a lot more mature than the other kids his age. He knew how to take care of himself. He knew the way home. He knew how to boil the water and make himself a cup of instant noodles when he'd get hungry. Perhaps she was being biased because this was her own child, but she was really convinced that her son grew in the times he spent alone throughout his early childhood years.

They stopped right at the entrance, and the lady got down to her knees to face her son at his eye level. "Have fun, okay?" she said. "Make lots of friends. If you need me, you can always ask your teacher to borrow the phone."

The boy nodded silently, and his poker face remained as his mum came forward to give a light kiss on his forehead. Then, with a final wave, they parted ways; the boy walking past the gates and stepping into the school, not once turning to look behind...

**July 18th, 6 years old**

"You should come over to my house during the summer!" the young boy squealed as he leapt in the air, his golden brown hair bouncing with him, before resting at the tip of his shoulders. "I'll totally let you see and touch my rock collection! And we can have ice cream secretly in my room! Maybe we can cycle around the neighbourhood!"

The other boy nodded, his hands tucked into his pockets as he followed his energetic friend closely behind. "And you can come over to my house, too," he suggested.

"Yeah! You have to show me your CD collection!"

The boy shrugged, pouting his lips slightly as he flicked his blond hair to the side. It had grown quite long and was now way past his eyes, which earned him a warning from his teachers to go get it cut. But since summer vacation was just a day away, he couldn't care less about it. "They're not exactly my CDs," he replied. "They're my dad's. He just left them with us. I listen to them a lot because they sound good."

"You're amazing," his friend commented. "You, like, know all these musicians from... Ah-maah..."

" _America,_ " the blond corrected him.

"Yeah, whatever that place is called." He flashed a wide grin. "Hey, who's your favourite musician from that place? Maybe I can check 'em out when I get home."

The blond remained silent for a bit, simply staring at the concrete ground as they walked past a row of stores. It wasn't that he contemplated his answer; he knew who was his favourite already, without a doubt. He just needed a moment to be able to impress his friend by saying a complicated foreign name. "...Avril Lavigne."

"That sounds scary." His friend shuddered.

"No," the other said quickly. "She's cool and pretty. She can play the guitar and sing at the same time."

"She...? It's a girl?"

"Who says girls can't rock?" They continued walking for a few moments until they came across a record store. The blond stopped in his tracks, and his friend, having noticed his pause, came to a stop as well.

"There she is," the older boy said, pointing a finger in the direction of the store. Behind the glass display window stood a long clothed table, with several vinyl records laid out on them. They were all being held up by a plastic stand from behind. There, in the direction at which the boy was pointing, stood a large vinyl packaging; an image of a young girl sporting blond hair stood in the centre, dressed entirely in black with her arms crossed. The people in the background behind her were blurred, as if they were moving. At the very top of the packaging were some letters from the English alphabet, and written with a thin, scrawny font was the name of the album followed by the musician's name: Avril Lavigne.

"That's her?" The brunet pressed his face flat against the glass, trying to get a closer look at the girl. "She's just a kid!"

"She's not a kid," the blond defended. "She's 15 — total grown-up."

The brunet frowned. "My sister said we're not grown-ups until we have babies," he said. "Does this girl have babies?"

The other shrugged. "Dunno. Can you have babies at 15?"

"I have no idea! Do you think we can finally be grown-ups if we have babies on our own?"

"I guess... But where can we find babies?"

The two young boys stood in silence, both cracking their brains as they tried to think of an answer. But no matter how much thought they put into it, they couldn't come up with any.

"...Maybe I'll ask my sister when I get home!" the brunet finally said, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

The blond nodded. "I'll ask my mum too, when she gets back."

He became quiet again, tilting his head to the side to get his hair out of the way, staring at the vinyl record in awe, though his lips were pressed firmly to form a thin line.

His friend didn't fail to notice the subtle expression. "You're really looking at it a lot," he noted. "What, you have a crush on her?"

"No way," the blond scoffed. "I like this album. I'm saving up to buy this record, but it's probably going to take me 10 years because it's way too expensive."

"Good luck with that!" the friend cheered. He made a quick turn and proceeded to skip down the path again. "Hurry up! I want to go home!"

The blond gave the record one final look, before letting out a heavy sigh. Mentally bidding it goodbye, he began walking, picking up the pace to catch up with his friend.

That night, when his mum was home and knitting silently while watching the local news, the boy crept silently towards her, appearing at her side. "Mum?" he called. "Where can I get babies?"

The lady dropped her needles and turned to her son with wide eyes, but failed to hide the amused and shocked smile on her face. "Babies?" she repeated. "Why do you ask?"

The boy lowered his head, as if ashamed. "...Ryota said that we can't be grown-ups until we have babies..."

His mum laughed out loud. "Ryota-chan and his stories again! You two really can't wait to grow up, huh?" She calmed herself down, though not completely, for a few giggles would still escape her lips ever so often as she spoke. "Well, you get a baby when you love someone..."

"I love you, Mum," the boy replied plainly. "Where is the baby?"

The lady snorted, unable to hold in her laughter. "It doesn't work that way, boy! I'm your mum, and I am way too old for you."

"Dad was older than you."

"Yes, but I loved him," she explained. "And that's why we have you — you're _our_ baby."

"Huh." The boy blinked. "I don't get it. What's the difference?"

"You can try loving someone your age for a start." His mum widened her smile and arched a brow. "Is there anyone you like in your class? Mei-chan? What do you think of Mami-chan?"

The boy gave it a thought. "The only one I like is Ryota," he replied. "But he is younger than me by a year..."

"That's fine, too. Do you love Ryota?"

The boy nodded, and his mum grinned. She brought a hand forward and ran it through his thick bright locks.

"Whoever it is that you love," she said slowly. "I'll always support your decision."

She patted him on the back a couple times before returning to her knitting, but her son still had one more question on his mind. "What if I love someone who is 15 years old, and she doesn't live in Japan?"

"Work hard," his mum replied without turning away from her needles. A smile tugged at her lips; she knew exactly who he was referring to. "If you do, you'll earn lots of money and one day you might get to see her in America."

**July 15th, 8 years old**

"I'm so sorry, I forgot to give you your umbrella," the young lady wept, actual tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"I'm fine, Mum...," her son groaned as he laid back in bed, his voice shaky because his teeth was chattering from the cold. He was completely drenched, having to run in the middle of a storm after school that day. He ran to the bed the moment he reached home, and had stayed there without moving a muscle until his mum came back from work. She prepared him a warm bath, but it obviously wasn't of much help.

She brought a hand forward, her soft palm and her dainty fingers pressing against his forehead. "You're running a slight fever...," she muttered. "This is all my fault..."

"It's... cold..."

The lady disappeared into the living room for a bit, returning shortly after with the scarf she had been knitting. She was able to complete it not too long ago; it took such a long time because she wanted to make sure the scarf was large enough to keep her son warm for the coming winter.

She placed the scarf gently over her son. It was heavy, because it was so huge and so thick, and its woolly texture was able to envelope the boy in comforting warmth; it was not too warm either, so it was perfect.

The boy pulled his end of the scarf closer towards him, covering nearly half of his face until it reached his nose. Inadvertently he took a sniff, and he couldn't help noticing a warm, unique smell of cinnamon, and malt. It relaxed him. It... was his mother's scent.

**November 11th, 12 years old**

"Do you still remember your dad, Toru?"

The young boy stared solemnly at the bed before him, slouched in his seat. His eyebrows were furrowed, but with his eyes partially covered by his blond hair, he seemed soulless. He said nothing in response, only subconsciously fiddling with his fingers as he averted his gaze. He didn't want to look at the pathetic figure before him.

"Are you still mad at him?" the lady asked again, this time leaning forward to earn a place in the boy's field of vision. She managed a weak smile. "You'll get to see him soon."

The boy shook his head. "I loved him," he said. "I loved him, and yet he still left us. I don't want to see him if he doesn't care about us any more."

"I'm sure he still loves you as a son," the lady assured him.

"No!" the boy, now evidently angered, raised his voice. "That old man found another woman! They have their own family now! He's happy with them, he doesn't need us!"

"Toru..." The lady frowned, looking up at her son with sad, teary eyes. She waited for him to calm down, breathing heavily as he settled back in his seat, clenching his teeth. The lady pulled her arm from under the thin sheets, long and pale and bony, and pointed downwards. The boy watched her shaky finger pointing at the floor below them.

"Under the bed...," the lady said, giving another smile. "...I made something."

"More charms, Mum?" the boy questioned, arching a brow. "You know, you really shouldn't force yourself to make them, but... people love your charms. They're beautiful. They're rare. People wouldn't mind paying a high price for them. I always sell them near the marketplace, it's really—"

"This one isn't for selling," the lady interrupted, although her voice was soft. "This one is for you."

The boy frowned, a little confused by his mum's words, but nonetheless bent forward from the chair with his arms outstretched. He felt around under the bed, his fingertips coming in contact with a cardboard box, and immediately he pulled it out. He was surprised to learn how light it was, almost as if it was actually empty.

Bringing the box up to his lap and brushing the dust away, he carefully opened the lid, unsure of what to expect. Instead of the usual 50-or-so charms he was so used to seeing previously, this time he was only greeted with one.

It was rather small — smaller than the previous charms his mum had made. It was bright, generously decorated with sequins and tiny jewels. The excellent handiwork was evident in the exquisite design; traditional, and yet it maintained intricate details. And the shape...

...it was in the shape of a guitar.

The boy only stared at it in silence. His face showed no emotion, but somehow the lady could see fear in his eyes.

"That's my last one," she explained. "I made it just for you. I won't be making any more."

"Why...?" the other's voice came out soft and shaky, and yet it intimidated his mum. "Why aren't you making any more...?"

"Toru—"

"What about your hospital bills!?" he began to yell. "If we don't sell your charms, we won't be able to pay your bills! What are we going to do about that, huh!?"

"Listen to me," his mum begged. "I... They won't charge us any more. Thank you for all you've done for me, boy, but from now on, the rest will be paid with my medical savings."

"What do you mean?" The boy was now on his feet, shaking, staring at the frail lady before him in disbelief. She only gave a saddened expression in response, and he shook his head, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. "No... don't tell me... you're..."

"I'm sorry." Now the lady was beginning to cry. "But I don't think I can hold on for much longer."

"Bullshit!" he bellowed, tossing the cardboard box with the charm onto the floor. "That's bullshit! Dad left — and now you're leaving me, too!?"

"That's not—"

Two nurses had entered the room then, jogging towards the young boy while he continued pacing angrily around the ward. "I'm sorry, but you're bothering the other patients," they told him, trying to grab a hold of him to settle him down. "I'm afraid we have to ask you to leave."

"Me? _Leave?_ " the boy questioned. "What about my mum!? She's the one leaving _me!_ She's the only one I love in this world and she's leaving me!" The nurses tightened their grip on the boy, and his yelling only got louder as he flailed around in an attempt to break free. He was a tall, strong, young boy, but ultimately the nurses together were much stronger than him, able to drag him out of the ward and away from his only family.

The lady did nothing to stop her tears from falling. She lowered her head, focusing her blurry vision on the box on the floor, right by the foot of the chair where her son had been sitting. She'd do anything to give that charm to Toru and make him keep it, no matter what it takes, even if that was the last thing she'd do.

And that was indeed the last thing she did.

**November 22nd, 12 years old**

"Are you... seriously going to leave?" the brunet asked as he looked up at his friend with sad eyes, and he pursed his lips, afraid of the other's response.

The blond nodded firmly. "Since my mum isn't around any more... I'll have to live with my dad and his family for the time being."

"No way..." The younger shut his eyes tight, trapping the tears that were threatening to flow. "If... if you go, what am I going to do? I'll have no friend to play with... no one to talk to..."

"You're a lot more popular than you think, Ryota," the other assured him.

"But you're my _best friend!_ " Ryota wailed. "We... we spent so much time together; all these years... we stuck with each other. You can't leave now!"

The blond's gaze darkened, no doubt the guilt from having to leave his friend was overwhelming him, eating him up from the inside, but he remained a stoic expression. He was going to put up a tough front. He couldn't show any sadness right now, not in front of his friend. He'd end up crying, and if he cried, it would make it even harder for him to leave.

Besides, his dad hated it when he cried...

The younger boy sobbed, rubbing his tears and snot on his sleeve. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I got upset... I know, though, that you can't do anything about it."

The blond nodded, having nothing more to say.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mum," Ryota added, his expression now concerned. "It must have been really hard for you at her funeral yesterday, huh?"

The boy blinked. Of course it was hard. It was his mum's funeral — his only family, or rather, the only family that had actually cared about him. He forced himself not to cry the entire day, no matter how badly he wanted to, no matter how devastated he felt. While friends and relatives said their prayers, all he could think about was the last time he saw her alive — in the hospital, so pathetically weak, giving him that charm... and all he did was yell at her.

She must have seen his dad at some point before she passed, because the old man had come up to him after the funeral to pass him the very same guitar charm his mum had made. Again came the tears, but the boy managed to stop himself. He didn't deserve to cry. He shouldn't have the right to cry. He failed to appreciate his mum when he still could, and now it was too late. He didn't even get to say goodbye to her. She must have passed on feeling heartbroken to be rejected by her only child, to be left all alone...

This was his punishment. He would not allow himself to cry.

"I am never going to love anyone else," he muttered to himself, although his friend had heard him.

"What?"

"I am never going to love anyone else," the blond repeated, turning to the other with a serious expression now. "Everyone I have loved so far leaves me in the end. I don't deserve to love other people. I don't deserve to be loved."

"Toru... don't say that, man."

The elder simply shook his head, dismissing his friend's words. "Once I'm a little older," he said. "I'm going to move out as soon as I can. I'll get my own apartment. Then I'll live on my own for the rest of my life."

The friend gulped. "Will we meet again...?"

"Of course," the blond said. "I'll surely come back here during the summer."

"No, I mean, high school... and stuff."

"Oh." The boy thought for a while. "Yeah, I guess we can... and we can go to the same college, too..."

The brunet flashed a smile — it was small, but still genuine with a hint of relief.

"Hey," he said. "Uh, there's this thing called... Facebook... uh, we can keep in touch on there?"

"I don't use social media."

"Well, start using it, then," the younger pressed. "Until I'm old enough to get a cell phone of my own, that's the only way I can talk to you."

The blond seemed to contemplate about it, before finally turning to his friend. A soft, short laugh escaped his lips, and for the first time in a long while, he felt his lips forming a smile. He tried to hide it by cupping his mouth, and lowering his head so his hair would mask his face, but he knew that was of no use. His friend could still catch the look on his face. Ryota was sharp like that.

"Yeah," Toru said, grinning slightly. "Okay."


	2. Ryota

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note that Ryota's birthday is in September, so the age might be a little confusing. For example, he may be turning six, however if the scenario takes place before his birthday, he will still be considered a five-year old. Sorry for any confusion!

_"Don't you think it'd be better if we move to Tokyo? It's nicer there. The girl is finishing her school term here too, so it's easier for her to transfer to another school if we move..."_

_"No way. The cost of living there is too expensive. Besides, she's still too young. Let's just stay here; it's much nicer, and the air is cleaner."_

_"Okay... I just felt that the kids might like it there."_

_"If they really want to go to Tokyo, we'll let them when they're older. Right now we just had another child, so moving would be too troublesome. Besides, we agreed that we should only spend our money on the kids."_

_"They're gonna end up spoilt."_

_"No— that only happens to kids who live in expensive cities like Tokyo. Here, it's easier to teach them how to be humble. Just trust me — we'll raise our children to be the nicest, most understanding people this world will ever get to know."_

**April 13th, 5 years old**

It had been a while since the first day of elementary school started, and by now parents and guardians were no longer allowed to accompany their children in the school. Although most would have gone back to work by now, there were still some bored or overly concerned relatives who dropped by, standing by the gates, craning their necks to see if they could spot their child, watching over them protectively.

The dark-haired boy didn't mind that his family were no longer around; even if they did drop by, he would have been too busy playing to notice them, anyway. After they started their morning with homeroom and simple reading and calligraphy classes, it was time for recess, where all the younger kids would be brought out to play freely among themselves. The older children were still inside the school building; their recess would come later.

The boy was on all fours, not caring that the concrete ground beneath him was scratching against his raw skin. Despite the other kids running and playing in the area, he had his eyes fixed on the ground, refusing to look up as he crawled all over the place; his expression deliberately contorted, he was possibly mimicking an angry, ferocious animal. He was somehow able to navigate his way around and avoid bumping into others - most of them would give way to him, anyway - yet when he did sense another individual sitting before him and blocking his way, he still made no effort to make a detour. He simply continued crawling forward until his head bumped lightly against the other child, and the brunet's head immediately shot up.

His pupils dilated, as if he'd just caught the sight of something foreign and intriguing.

"Your hair is yellow!" he exclaimed, bringing up a skinny hand and pointing at the boy before him.

The other boy was seated on the ground, hugging his knees while he leaned against the wire fence behind him. His bright-coloured hair covered most of his forehead, only barely touching his eyelids. Instead of physically turning to face the brunet, the boy simply shifted his gaze to him, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"No," he replied firmly. "It's blonde."

"I've never heard of that colour before," the brunet said, shifting to sit beside the other in a similar fashion. "What language is that? You must not be from around here."

"I _am_ from here," the other said. "I was born here, just like you."

"My mum told me I was born in the hospital," the brunet replied simply, and failed to catch even a glimpse of the other boy rolling his eyes.

"My name is Ryota!" he said again, now flashing a wide grin. "What's yours?"

"Toru."

"How old are you?"

"I turn seven this year."

"Can I call you Toru-nii-san?"

"No."

"My mum said that I should call all the older people nii-san and nee-san."

The blond Toru said nothing in return; his gaze focused on his own black shoes, it seemed as if he was contemplating how to respond, but after a couple minutes he still hadn't produced a sound.

"Do you like rocks, Toru-nii-san?"

"No?" Toru furrowed his brows at the other, though more appalled by the question than the way he'd been addressed.

"I have a rock for you," the brunet said, disregarding his new friend's reply. Tucking a hand into the pocket of his shorts, he grabbed the contents and pulled them out, revealing a handful of rocks of various shapes and colours. Some were smooth and shiny, the others were rough and cloudy. All the rocks were partially covered with soil and even a few tiny blades of grass, suggesting that he had just picked them up recently at a nearby field.

The brunet inspected the rocks in his hand, examining them individually and shaking his head as he rejected rock after rock. Finally a bright-coloured rock caught his eye, and with much excitement he picked it with his other hand and passed it to Toru, before putting away the rest of his collection.

Toru still had the confused look on his face, and reluctantly offered his hand for the rock. It was relatively small, no bigger than a coin, and in contrast to its bright appearance, there were smaller, darker pores surrounding it, giving it a smooth and yet slightly bumpy texture if he ran his thumb over it. But it was its colour that struck him the most.

"...It's yellow," he said, looking back up at the other boy after staring.

"Yeah, like your hair!" The brunet nodded. "It's cool, isn't it? I have never seen a yellow rock before!"

"I have never seen one too," Toru agreed.

"Someone told me that there are even nicer rocks out there!" The younger boy was ecstatic now, clenching his fists excitedly. "Blue! Green! Even red ones!"

The expression on Toru's face didn't change, but there was no denying the sparkle of curiosity in his eyes upon hearing those words.

"My mum said I can even find them in stores!" the other squealed, but within seconds his voice had reduced to a softer, demotivated tone. "But she also said they are expensive, and I need a lot of money if I want them..."

Toru tilted his head. "Can we sell this yellow rock, then?"

The brunet widened his eyes, staring at his friend in awe after his ingenious idea. He seemed excited, and yet, hesitant.

"...No," he said simply, much to the blond's surprise. "I gave you that rock, so that rock is for you and you only. You have to keep it."

After a brief silence, the older boy gave a smile; though small, it felt sincere and genuine, and it had only just occurred to the other that that was his first time seeing Toru's smile.

**December 7, 5 years old**

The blond's fingers ran carefully along the edges of the object, completely wrapped in a bright blue wrapping paper with yellow stars all over it. The other kids watched in awe, most possibly wondering what kind of gift could be so flat and mundane. However the dark-haired boy stood by the side, biting his lip in anticipation as his friend started to unwrap the gift.

It was revealed to be a vinyl record; given its unique and shiny design, it seemed as if it was a limited edition. The front cover was a picture of a blonde girl dressed in all black, and behind her was probably her supporting band, blurred out.

It was Avril Lavigne.

The other children gasped in amazement and their mothers widened their eyes. That did not look cheap! Someone must have spent a fortune to pay for that; the birthday kid was lucky that he had even befriended someone who came from a rich family! But the brunet didn't care about that; he only cared about what his friend would think of it.

"Oh, thank you...," Toru said softly, eyes focused on the record even though his expression showed nothing. "I love it."

The boy could barely hold back his grin.

"Do you really? You don't look very happy," some other kid decided to be nosy and had to point that out, and unfortunately the other kids agreed with him.

That wiped the smile off the brunet's face almost instantly. He couldn't help feeling insulted by what the other kids were saying about his best friend. _Who the hell do they think they are?_ Of course Toru was happy! He might not be able to show it, but the boy knew; they had spent every second of their time in school with each other, so he knew. He knew the signs to look out for when Toru was sad, and he knew what to look out for when he was in a good mood. And this — this was beyond being in a good mood. The boy could imagine fireworks leaping and exploding inside the blond; he knew how happy he was that he was finally able to get the record he'd always wanted.

He was the only one who understood Toru; he was not afraid to admit that and he knew Toru would say the same thing, too.

**April 14th, 12 years old**

"I'm worried about him...," the lady expressed her concerns to her husband as she watched her son walk away with his tiny backpack. "He hasn't been feeling so great ever since..."

"...Ever since his friend left?" the man finished, moving to stand beside her. He sighed. "I don't know what to do any more. We offered to buy him all the toys he could ever want but he's still not happy."

"He wasn't even happy on New Year's."

"We could have spoilt him," her husband lamented. "We would have gladly spoilt him and give him anything he could ever ask for, and that still wouldn't be enough to make him happy..."

It was the first day of junior high for the dark-haired boy now. Though the school was only a five-minute walk from his home, it took him longer to get there, simply because he was walking slower than usual and dragging his feet; the soles of his new shoes were already beginning to wear out.

This was the way he walked to and from school every day since his friend Toru had moved to Tokyo. He didn't enjoy his final term in elementary school and he was not looking forward to junior high. He didn't see the point in going to school any more. Due to family complications Toru would have no one to look after him if he stayed in Osaka, so he had no choice but to leave. It was an extremely painful moment for the boy, and if he could he would make Toru stay. However he also understood that that was not Toru's fault, and that Toru couldn't help it.

He didn't blame Toru. He knew that, if given the choice, Toru would surely choose to stay in Osaka, as well.

The first years were all assembled according to their new classes; the brunet noticed that quite a number of his previous schoolmates from elementary school were in the same class as him this year, however there were also a few new faces that he hadn't seen before. He sat quietly outside the classroom, ignoring the noise from his friends' conversations and the cries from the other first years behind him.

The boy had such attention fixed on the floor beneath him that when he felt a palm lightly slap him on the cheek, he jumped back and nearly got a heart attack. With wide eyes he turned to his perpetrator, only to be met with a short-haired girl giggling at him.

"I scared you!" she sang, mocking him though she really meant no harm.

The boy playfully rubbed his cheek, deciding to play along and pretend that the girl had inflicted pain onto him. "What the hell was that for?"

"You looked lonely," she replied simply, shifting so that she would be seated properly beside him. "Is it because you don't have any friends?"

"I _do_ have friends; I know everyone here," he quipped. "...I just wanted to be alone."

The girl tilted her head. "Sad?"

The boy nodded.

"Why are you sad? Do you hate school?"

"I used to like it." The brunet shrugged. "But my best friend is gone, so now I don't have anyone to hang out with."

He looked at the floor again, and couldn't help feeling weird and crept out. He knew the girl was staring at him, watching his face, and he silently wished that she would just stop and leave him alone.

"Then you don't have to be sad now!" she said suddenly, flashing one of her own big grins. "I'm here and I have no friends in this class, so you can hang out with me!"

The brunet arched a brow at her; this girl was so confident that she would be able to keep him company just like how Toru had. She probably had no idea who Toru was, and she was definitely nothing like him. To befriend her because Toru wasn't here any more was like replacing his best friend, and the boy couldn't do that. He would never do something so awful to him. He didn't want to forget about Toru.

But... it amazed him how easy and confident the girl was in asking to be friends with him. Usually by now most kids would already have their own group of friends to be with, and the girl had no friends in this class. It was common sense that it could get difficult for her to adapt and be liked by her new classmates. Yet that didn't seem to bother her at all; she simply gave him an offer to hang out with her, and that was it. That was all it took for her to make friends; almost as if she was certain that he would agree, and even if she did expect rejection, she was not afraid of it. And the boy admired that.

It was nice to know someone cared enough to keep him company.

**February 4th, 15 years old**

"Eeehh? You're going to Tokyo!?"

The boy gulped at the sight before him, the girl pursing her lips while she tried so hard to fight back the tears that were beginning to form.

"No, no— it's not like that!" the boy tried to pacify her, waving his hands in front of his face. "I mean, I'm just going to study there, but I'm not going anywhere, y'know! I'll still be here!"

"You're not... moving?"

"No! How could I? Osaka is my home after all." The boy calmed down, and managed to give a warm, reassuring smile that soothed the girl, and she stopped crying.

"I promise to take you out on the weekends, okay?" the boy said, now turning away while he rubbed the back of his head.

"Okay!" The girl nodded, giving a smile of her own. "It's a pity that I won't be able to show you off to my new friends in high school, though."

"I think it's better if you don't," the boy said. "They might fall for me." He was immediately given a light punch on his arm.

"Yeah, right!" the girl said, smirking. "Too bad they can't have you, though. If they think they can win you over, they're wrong."

The boy nodded. "If you think about it, it's crazy that we've been together since the first year." He scratched his neck again. "I wonder how I'm going to explain that to my parents when we're older..."

The girl laughed, bringing out her hands to fix his scarf, pretending not to notice the slight blush that had formed on his face. "You're going to Tokyo to see your friend, right?"

"Yeah, after so long we can finally go to the same school again. And maybe after high school, we can go to the same college together! And maybe after that...!"

The girl giggled. "I've never been to Tokyo before," she commented. "But be careful, okay? I've heard some scary stories happening over there..."

The boy smiled and grabbed her petite hands, holding them in his. Though he was already wearing gloves, holding them he felt not just his hands but his entire anatomy getting warmer, lighter.

"I'll be fine," he said. "Thank you, Haruka-chan."


End file.
